


A More-Than-Friendly Competition

by ByTheAngell (SomeLittleInfamy)



Series: Flufftober 2020 [23]
Category: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27163192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeLittleInfamy/pseuds/ByTheAngell
Summary: When a misguided attempt to make Ragnor jealous backfires, it might be the push Magnus needs to finally admit his feelings.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Ragnor Fell
Series: Flufftober 2020 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949836
Comments: 10
Kudos: 15





	A More-Than-Friendly Competition

**Author's Note:**

> Flufftober Day 23: Poetry

Magnus, who just ended things with a man who had, unfortunately, become a bit _too_ enamored with him and started prying a bit _too_ deeply into Magnus’ past, sits in the parlor of his home with a drink in one hand and a piece of parchment in the other. He’s doing a rather dramatic reading of the poetry written on the parchment, by hand with the finest quill around, and so he feels the need to deliver the words with the flourish they deserve.

It doesn’t hurt that the poetry is about him and that the long-suffering audience of his reading is Ragnor. Ragnor, who Magnus may or may not have an unfortunate set of unrequited feelings for. Ragnor, who Magnus might, possibly, not that he’d ever admit it, be trying to make jealous.

“That was dreadful,” Ragnor says immediately upon Magnus’ completion of the reading. “Nevermind the man’s concerning obsession with you, you should’ve left the moment you read a word of this drivel he writes.”

Magnus huffs. “You’re just jealous because you don’t have any poetry written about you.”

“Who says I don’t?” Ragnor demands. “If I did, I certainly wouldn’t make it public knowledge.”

“Of course,” Magnus says, in a tone of voice that implies he doesn’t believe Ragnor at all and gets a small burst of satisfaction when Ragnor bristles at his tone.

“And I wager that I could get better poetry written about me any day,” Ragnor continues. “In fact, what do you say we do just that. A friendly wager?”

“I’m listening,” Magnus says.

“It’s simple - we each go out and find admirers to compose poetry about us. Catarina objectively judges which of us gets the best poem written about them at the end of… one year,” Ragnor suggests.

“A year? That seems excessive. Afraid you can’t get a single poem by then?” Magnus laughs.

“Fine. Three months?”

Magnus considers, then nods. “Alright. You’re on.”

\---

Magnus doesn’t know why he agreed to this. He doesn’t want more poetry and adoration from casual romantic acquaintances, that was never the point. And now all it’s done is make _Magnus_ jealous every time Ragnor comes to him with a new poem to show off. All Magnus can think about is the person it came from, whoever Ragnor’s latest tryst is with for the sake of their competition, and how that person isn’t him.

It’s all rather unfortunate. Magnus keeps up appearances, flirting his way through artistic circles he knows are full of budding writers, but it doesn’t take long for him to lose his motivation. After one month he tries to call the bet off, even willing to cede victory willingly, but Ragnor will hear none of it.

“You just know you’re going to lose, and I refuse to win on a technicality. Come now, you’ve never been one to back out of a gentleman’s bet before, Bane,” Ragnor goads, and Magnus sighs.

“What if we call it early and choose from whatever we have now?” Magnus bargains.

“Why are you so eager to stop?” Ragnor questions. Magnus knows he’s looking for the real reason, the one that has Magnus pacing slightly during this conversation and biting his lower lip in thought.

Magnus knows he can’t say anything, he can’t ruin the best friendship he has, so he shakes his head in reply. “No reason. You’re right - I’m just getting nervous I’ll lose.”

Magnus has a feeling that Ragnor knows he isn’t telling the whole truth, but Ragnor doesn’t press and Magnus drops the subject entirely.

Two more months. Surely he can get through two more months of this?

\---

Magnus cannot get through two more months of this.

In fact, he’s been lying about his own dates for two weeks straight now, having lost all motivation for this little game of theirs. At a loss for what to do and after much agonizing, an idea strikes him that’s equal parts brilliant and terrifying: Magnus decides to write a poem about Ragnor.

Poetry is not a particularly strong suit of his, but knowing Ragnor Fell inside and out _is_ , and that’s the advantage he puts into play the moment he sits down at his desk and begins to write. It takes Magnus days to craft the perfect lines, to convey the little details he’s noticed over the years, the subtle emotions that always seep into their conversations and time together. By the end, many scratched-out drafts and crumpled sheets of parchment later, Magnus has a poem that practically oozes fondness from every carefully chosen word.

The next time they meet for drinks Magnus hands Ragnor the poem almost immediately.

“What’s this?” Ragnor asks, giving the parchment a precursory glance.

“It’s a poem,” Magnus says simply. He doesn’t need an explanation, the poem itself should be obvious enough. “For you.”

Ragnor looks back down at the poem and begins to read silently to himself. Magnus watches his eyes scan the paper, the few times it looks like Ragnor wants to look up from it and over to Magnus but forces himself to read it all once through first.

“Well then,” Ragnor says, finally looking back over to Magnus who, to his credit, keeps his head raised high to meet his gaze instead of looking away like he so desperately wants to do in these rare moments of true transparency. “I suppose I can agree to that premature end of our wager you wanted now...”

Magnus assumes the worst - that Ragnor no longer wants anything to do with him, that he ruined everything.

“...Since I can’t imagine receiving a more perfect poem than this one,” Ragnor continues.

Magnus allows the words, and the slight smile on Ragnor’s face, to properly sink in for several long seconds before he trusts himself to speak.

“What are you thinking right now?” Magnus hazards.

“I’m thinking it’s about time you admitted it. I suspected, but I could never be entirely certain,” Ragnor admits. “And I’m thinking that I’m not mad about my suspicions being right.”

Magnus relaxes visibly and gives a proper smile for the first time that day. “Shall we give the poem to Cat and tell her it’s over?”

Ragnor pulls the parchment closer to himself instinctively at the suggestion, and when he speaks again his voice is softer than Magnus expects. “I’d like to keep this one for myself, actually. If that’s alright with you.”

It’s such a sweet sentiment that Magnus is temporarily stunned. He expected a wide range of reactions, but somehow simple sweetness was not one of them.

“Of course,” Magnus agrees quickly, once he’s regained his composure. “I could always write another, too, if you-”

“I wouldn’t push your luck. This one was charming, no need to force it now,” Ragnor teases good-naturedly, and Magnus laughs, rolling his eyes. Now _this_ is the sort of reaction he expected from Ragnor. _This_ he can work with.

Magnus writes Ragnor a poem every day for a week out of equally good-natured spite, and though Ragnor tells him to stop being ridiculous and rolls his eyes at each one Magnus also notes that he keeps them, each and every one.

**Author's Note:**

> (Find me on [Tumblr](http://bytheangell.tumblr.com) and also on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/By_The_Angell)! <3 )


End file.
